Crowded cafe's with couples, business people, mountaineers and reunions of friendships long lost to the wayside of a progressive nature. I feel quite still, surrounded by the noise of the lives of the these Clydesdale draft horses drawn by a destination; blinders on so as not to be distracted by that proverbial rose which I sit and stare at morning after morning.
Life in the mountains is harsh, most of the inhabiting humans have forgotten that their jagged peaks and crisp edges mask an ancient beauty. They work their lives beneath them, day after day dreaming of distant shores. They sometimes venture amongst the lower foothills, clad in goretex, hiking poles in hands, iPods in ears, glasses on eyes, shoes on feet...The disconnectedness from their actions growing with every step.
I read somewhere that lightning strikes the ground 100 times every second, have you felt it? it resonates in the pebbles, mud and puddles, singing to your feet to soak up its charge and reconnect a circle, a circle we try to win daily.